His hand tenses around my abused foot, and I squeak out a protest.
“Easy on the merchandise, buddy.”
“That was…you were on the phone with Chris and Lena?”
“Yeah, of course. Who else—”
The end of that conversation comes back to me, and I narrow my eyes and try to pull my feet back, which of course he won’t allow.
“Who exactly did you think I was talking to?” I ask in a deadly tone.
He has the grace to look sheepish, and I harden my heart against the little boy pout.
“Han, I—”
“How can you even..?” I rip my feet back and make to stand, feeling so much fury I can hardly breathe. “We’re married! God, what do you take me for? You must think so little of me!”
I’m furious, raging as I lean down to grab my shoes, only to find myself smashed up against his chest, his face so close I can smell the champagne on his breath.
“Goddammit, darlin’, calm the heck down.”
“No! You think I’m some kind of whore? How can you even think I would do that to you?”
“Because I’d deserve it!” he yells.
A few passers-by stop and stare long enough that he grabs my hand and tows me inside and up the back stairs. When we reach our bedroom he slams and locks the door, still keeping me pinned to his chest.
“You even stopped telling me you love me. I’m a lousy husband to you, and I know it. For Christ’s sake, I spent ninety percent of our honeymoon avoiding you.”
I stop struggling and push back to see his face, all the fight leaving me at that quiet admission. So he was avoiding me.
“Why? I mean, you’re so into sex, and…a honeymoon is a free for all sex marathon. I thought you’d jump at the chance to nail me on every surface at any time.”
Gosh, I’d been looking forward to that.
He finally sets me down, and I sigh in frustration when he starts pacing.
“I…I wanted to prove to you that I don’t just want you for sex,” he mutters, and it takes me a minute to process that statement before a laugh bubbles out.
“On our honeymoon?”
I’m doing my utmost not to laugh so hard I snort, but it’s almost impossible when he stops pacing and glares at me in that oh so familiar way.
“Possibly a miscalculation,” he concedes before throwing me a dirty look. “You didn’t exactly help either. I almost lost an eye when you walked out of the bathroom completely naked.”
“Ah, so you did notice.”
He curses and mutters, giving me a sardonic look.
“Of course I did. I had to walk to another cabin with a hard on that took an hour to subside. An old lady and her husband caught me. And winked. It was the most embarrassing situation I’ve ever been in.”
“I bet that gave them something big to talk about,” I snort.
“Very big.”
He smiles as he says it, and I giggle, feeling relieved and lightheaded at once. Relieved because, well, hearing that my body is banging hot enough to get that sort of reaction is great. Lightheaded because now I kinda don’t need him to say it anymore.
Even if he doesn’t love me, that’s as close as it gets, and that’s more than okay.
“I love you, Gregory Lucas,” I whisper, choking up a little. “Even though you tortured me on our honeymoon and made me miserable the first week of our marriage.”
I tack that on because, while I’m feeling charitable, I’m not dumb. He still has a lot of making up to do, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
His face lights up and he grabs me, kissing me so thoroughly my toes curl.
“Say it again. Please.”
“I love you. Love you. Love you,” I whisper against his lips, peppering him with soft kisses that promise so much more. “Wait. I haven’t given you your gift yet.”
I push away and dart to the closet, coming back with a nervous skip. He frowns and takes my offering, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You already gave me what I wanted, darlin’.”
He’s so solemn and cute I can’t resist another kiss before urging him to open it. I’m so excited and jittery I have to fight the urge not to open it myself.
It’s worth the agitation, though, when he carefully pulls back the wrapping to reveal the small rectangular box. A laugh bubbles up, and I grin, knowing that look.
He thinks I’ve bought him man jewelry — as if — and his trepidation about opening it is hurting my feelings.
“Darlin’—”
“Oh shut up and open it already. I’m dying here.”
When he does finally swallow and lift the lid, I’m actually jumping up and down and clapping like a five-year-old. What I’ve gotten him is a very rare baseball card that I practically had to sell my soul for, it’s so rare.